


Burned and Branded

by amphib



Category: NADDPOD - Fandom, Not Another D&D Podcast
Genre: Angst, Corruption, Crisis of Faith, Deals With The Devil, Hero Complex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-20 02:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20667800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amphib/pseuds/amphib
Summary: Those who abandon the light are doomed to walk in shadow. Beverly makes a grave decision.





	Burned and Branded

**Author's Note:**

> did u know? i like other dnd shows? anyway i love pain

You look down at the coin in your hand. It's heavy in your palm, weirdly hot in this freezing climate. The gold shimmers blithely in the light, almost innocent in how inoccuous it is until you see the symbol carved into the face.

"Just think about it," the curling, ember-crisp voice says a few feet away. You glance up to him, memorizing his face in all its wicked beauty. "I could help you help your friends. Your family. I'm sure you're missing your father terribly right now."

You wince, clenching your hand around the coin. The thought of getting this far, getting so close to saving your family, only to die in the Feywild is a cruel one. It makes your heart chill in the icy wind.

You slip the coin into your pocket. "My friends are outside," you say, your voice steady and calm.

"I know. Why don't you let them in, dear boy?"

* * *

It's late in the night, a few days later but not long enough that you're proud of yourself, and you find yourself staring at the coin again. Hardwon and Balnor are asleep, snoring in tandem, and Moonshine is trancing while spooning Hardwon. You sit at the edge of the bed, turning Akarat's coin over and over and over and over and over in your hands.

Think of what Dad would say, you think. What Pelor will think of you. What Thiala-- what  _Ulfgar_ would think. They would be disappointed in you. You can only imagine what Erlin's face would look like if you showed up, not a Green Knight, but something much darker. You wonder if it would be immediately obvious, if it'll be branded on your face, so everyone who meets you from now on will know where your allegiances lie.

But won't they be safer? To have the hounds of Hell on their side? To know that they could have the power of the Devil himself called down to aid them? To  heal  them? You'll be so much stronger. So much _more_.

That same voice whispers in your ear again.  _Dear boy_ , it hisses,  _I will give you all the might of my father, Ilsed, to vanquish your enemies. I will bequeath to you the might of mine own demonic magic. I will give myself to you, Beverly Toegold V, will you give yourself to me?_

You hear a rustling on the bed, and you hide the coin in your fist.

"Bev?" Moonshine whispers. There's immediately a comforting hand in your hair, pulling you to lean your head against her shoulder as she sits up. "Are you still awake? What's eatin' at you, young'n?"

"It's nothing, Moonshine," you say, looking up at her with a smile. "I just need to go pee. I'll be right back."

You get up and leave the room, walking the halls of the Stormborn. At this time of night, it's quiet except for the sound of the wind, and you're just above the clouds, sailing through the air. You lean against a railing up top, watching the clouds roll by as you pass them.

You shouldn't. They might never forgive you after this.

But they would never forgive you for letting one of them die, either. Someone has to be there to catch everyone when they fall, and that meant you have to grow up fast.

You clench your fist over the coin, closing your eyes. You whisper a soft prayer to Pelor, wishing safety on your father, your friends, and Erlin. He can protect them. You have to protect Moonshine and Hardwon and Balnor.

Fire explodes in your hand, crackling softly as embers shoot from between your fingers. You keep your hold on the coin, gritting your teeth through the pain, until the heat finally subsides. Panting, you open your hand, and the gold coin has turned into ashes, blowing away on the heavy winds. Blood seeps from the burns on your palm, but you can make out the symbol, clear as day.

* * *

"I-- I didn't expect this," Alanis says, looking at your hand. By now, the burn has long healed, but something tells you the red will never fade from the scar. "You never did this in any other timeline."

"Well, it's made a difference, hasn't it?" you ask, furrowing your eyebrows. You pull your glove back on, hiding the mark. "We're stronger, because I'm stronger."

"Well, sure," the elf sighs, running a hand through her frizzy hair. "But you were plenty strong before. I sent you help, via Balnor."

"Balnor's fine, but-- but we need an extra edge," you say, glancing back at where Moonshine and Hardwon and Balnor are sharing dinner. "Thiala is strong. We need something that directly opposes her. Now, I'm that something."

"Bev, buddy, I think you're putting too much of this on your own shoulders," Alanis says, but you've already turned and gone back to your friends, grinning and joking like nothing happened.

You shoot a look over to Alanis, hoping she knows not to tell your friends. She nods, sad, but understanding.

* * *

When you see Erlin, you rush forward to hug him. You melt against him like he's a comfy bed, pressing your lips to his cheek and lips and whatever else you can reach. 

"It's been too long," you croak, shutting your eyes and enjoying the moment.

"Yeah, definitely," Erlin grins, hugging you back and laughing. "Man, you all look like you need some rest. C'mon, Mrs. Toegold is just making some sticky buns."

You feel like you've aged ten years since the last time you saw Erlin. You can't stop holding his hand, squeezing it to make sure he's real. You sit down next to him at the table, thankfully taking off your armor, but leaving your gloves on.

"Bev, you look different. Did you get a haircut?" he asks, voice muffled by a mouthful of sticky bun.

You give a small, cracked smile. In the mirror hanging on the wall, you can see your usually sun-kissed skin is pale, almost greenish, _sickly_. "It's just been a long couple of months," you say, and he nods.

You don't find it in your heart to tell him the truth before you leave again. Not when you take your gloves off that first night and he sees that scar, probably recognizes it. Not when you wake up from a nightmare one night and he's next to you and he has to comfort you back to sleep. Not even when he almost catches you communing with Akarat one morning, sees you licking the blood from the cut on your hand like it's a normal thing. You can't disappoint him like that.

But maybe it's obvious. You don't pray to Pelor anymore. You wear the mithril armor, not the Green Knight armor, and your eyes have a new weight to them that they never had before. Akarat's symbol is not tattooed on your forehead, but perhaps it is there, just as visible, his impact on you plain as a scar.

You kiss Erlin goodbye, and promise to come back quick this time. He gives you a weak smile, says he'll hold you to that, and pecks you on the cheek.

As you set off with your friends, you can't help but get a sinking feeling in your gut.


End file.
